【一】:英文新宝马娱乐注册送28元诗歌朗诵

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas, too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack. His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

【二】:英语诗歌朗诵

Would I were dead,if God's good will were so, For what is in this world but grief and woe? O God! me thinks it were a happy life

To be no better than a homely swain;

To sit upon a hill,as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly,point by point, There by to see the minutes how they run- How many makes the hours full complete, How many hours brings about the day,

How many days will finish up the year,www.mwopus.com_英语新宝马娱乐注册送28元诗歌朗诵。

How many years a mortal man may live; When this is known,then to divide the times- So many hours must I tend my flock,

So many hours must I take my rest,

So many hours must I contemplate,

So many hours must I sport myself;

So many days my ewes have been with young, So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,

So minutes,hours,weeks,mounths,and years, Passed over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs upto a quiet grave. Ah,what a life were this! how sweet,how lovely! Gives no the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep Than doth a rich embroidered canopy

Your forever friend holds your hand and tells you that everything is going to be okay.

真正的朋友会握着你的手，告诉你一切都会好起来的。

英文优美朗诵诗歌篇03

Youth

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 60 more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonders, the unfailing appetite for what’s next and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart, there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, courage and power from man and from the infinite, so long as you are young.

When your aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you’ve grown old, even at 20; but as long as your aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there’s hope you may die young at 80.

优美英文朗诵诗歌篇03

I remember quite clearly now when the story happened. The autumn leaves were floating in measure down to the ground, recovering the lake, where we used to swim like children, under the sun was there to shine. That time we used to be happy. Well, I thought we were. But the truth was that you had been longing to leave me, not daring to tell me. On that precious night, watching the lake, vaguely conscious, you said: "Our story is ending."

The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of love, since a long time ago. I still don't think I'm gonna make it through another love story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I'm watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending.

【五】:优美英文诗歌朗诵3篇

优美英文诗歌朗诵篇01

Youth

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 60 more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonders, the unfailing appetite for what’s next and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart, there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, courage and power from man and from the infinite, so long as you are young.

When your aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you’ve grown old, even at 20; but as long as your aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there’s hope you may die young at 80.

优美英文诗歌朗诵篇02

I remember quite clearly now when the story happened. The autumn leaves were floating in measure down to the ground, recovering the lake, where we used to swim like children, under the sun was there to shine. That time we used to be happy. Well, I thought we were. But the truth was that you had been longing to leave me, not daring to tell me. On that precious night, watching the lake, vaguely conscious, you said: "Our story is ending."

The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of love, since a long time ago. I still don't think I'm gonna make it through another love story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I'm watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending.

优美英文诗歌朗诵篇03

Three passions

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.

I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy –ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness--that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what- at last- I have found.

With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the